


How To Love

by FallingLikeThis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ageism, Ageist Language, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Chivalry, Dubious Consent, F/M, Harry is basically a Disney prince, Historical Inaccuracy, Insecure Louis, King Niall, Kings & Queens, M/M, Male Fertility, POV Alternating, Prince Harry Styles, Princes & Princesses, Royal Gemma, Royal Harry, Royal Niall, Royalty, WIP, because people can't keep their hands off of Louis, hints of mpreg, it's a possibility in this world, like a lot of it, princess gemma, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:31:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9626162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingLikeThis/pseuds/FallingLikeThis
Summary: When King Niall throws a royal ball to find a spouse, sibling royalty, Princess Gemma and her younger brother Prince Harry, travel from their own kingdom to attend. Gemma hopes to win over King Niall in a last ditch attempt to secure a strong ally for her family's kingdom, as well as possibly find love before her advanced age takes her out of the running for good.What they don't expect is for Harry to find the possibility of love as well -with the King's enigmatic best friend.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rearviewdreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rearviewdreamer/gifts).



> I miss the thrill of a WIP. Most probably there will be weekly updates. Not necessarily the same day every week though.  
> If you're with me on this journey, thank you. I love you. I'll try to make it as pleasant as possible. The title comes from the song of the same name by Cash Cash ft. Sofia Reyes.
> 
> Oh, and if you're currently waiting on an addition to one of my series, fear not. I am writing so much right now. :D

**G**

Princess Gemma watches with poorly veiled amusement as her younger brother, Prince Harry, peeks out the windows of their carriage, constantly in awe of their surroundings. You’d think a man of nearly twenty-three would be less like a child discovering the world for the first time, especially one as well-travelled as Harry is, but he never fails to find something new to be excited about with each additional kingdom he travels to. Gemma loves that Harry never fails to see the beauty in every place he goes, every person he meets. She only wishes she had the same luxury of looking at the world like it was a gift waiting to be opened, but being the eldest child puts a lot of responsibility on her shoulders that makes such wishful thinking impossible. She tries to remind herself that Harry has the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders. He’ll be king one day and that’s no small undertaking to be facing, but he’s got time yet. Gemma is running out of time.

The direction of her thoughts reminds Gemma of her current task and steals some of the joy from her heart, replacing it with anxiety.

Harry turns from the window to smile at his sister and comment on something he’s seen but his mouth snaps shut the second he sees the change in her posture and he moves across the carriage to sit next to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders and squeezing her into his side. “What’s wrong, Gem?” He asks, voice filled with brotherly concern.

“Nothing, Harry,” Gemma tries to wave away his worries but her brother is not easily deterred when it comes to her happiness (or anyone’s for that matter).

“Tell me,” he persists lightly, giving her another slight squeeze.

“It’s just…,” she gives in with a sigh. “What if he doesn’t want me?”

“What’s not to want?” Harry smiles at her. “You’re beautiful, smart, charming…”

“Old,” Gemma adds despairingly. It’s true, she’s nearly twenty-seven. Well past her prime marrying years. If it weren’t for her tendency to speak her mind rather than stay quiet as most men want, she’d have been married to the King of Spain almost a full decade ago.  As it is, this may be her last chance to secure a strong ally for her family’s kingdom and it certainly doesn’t help that it’s not even close to a sure thing. So, while Harry will one day be responsible for the fate of his own kingdom, Gemma currently has the crushing weight of two kingdoms pressing down on her.

“Gemma,” Harry chides, trying to console his sister, maybe even lift her spirits but Gemma doesn’t give him the chance.

“No, Harry. I know what I’m here to do. I have to win over King Niall. I have to be more beautiful and more charming than the other girls, more interesting than the men, and generally just the belle of this wretched ball that King Niall is giving. And he’ll need never know how smart I am because I will otherwise keep my mouth shut the way a good wife is supposed to. Except when I am convincing him that I can still give him an heir despite my advanced age,” Gemma pulls herself from Harry’s hold and sits on the other side of the carriage. She’s not in the mood for Harry’s kindness or concern. She needs to remember what she’s here for and figure out how to secure herself the hand of the king.

Harry looks at her sorrowfully and Gemma hates that she put that look on his face. A man so full of love as her brother should never have occasion to look so heartbroken. She lifts her chin and looks out the window so she doesn’t have to see it.

 

**N**

 

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Niall whines at his best mate, who is currently not really doing anything of use, while the ballroom is a flurry of activity with servants in the middle of last minute preparations for the ball to come. It’s only a few hours away and everyone is all keyed up about it because of the nature of the thing.

“I’m doing this because I’m bored,” Louis answers, taking a bite out of one of the apples he’s juggling before throwing it back into the air.

“Not the juggling, you arse. The ball,” Niall groans, resting his head in his hands. How he and Louis have stayed friends for so many years is a mystery to…, well, pretty much everyone. They’d grown up together because Louis’ father had been one of the King’s advisors when Niall’s father was king, but Louis had been unruly and wild from the start. Always getting Niall into trouble for their boyish shenanigans. It’s a wonder the King hadn’t forbidden them from remaining friends. Perhaps he’d already guessed at what Louis would only find out when his body matured to manhood, that he was fertile. Maybe he’d thought to keep Louis around as a future mate for Niall, which is preposterous. Niall could never think of Louis that way, he’s too much like an older brother for that. Of course, if Louis was actually his older brother, Niall wouldn’t be in this mess.

“Oh, because you need an heir, my King,” Louis says dryly, nearly losing his momentum with the apples he’s juggling but righting himself just in time to keep them looping through the air. “And to have an heir, you need a fertile spouse. And to find a fertile spouse, you have to have a ball because that’s what all the spoiled, rich kings with no imagination do.” Louis takes another bite of an apple, though Niall is pretty sure it isn’t the same one.

“Why is it that when you say ‘my King’, it sounds like an insult?” Niall asks, glaring at his friend.

“In case you missed it, _my King_ ,” Louis purrs sarcastically, catching all the apples in his hands and putting them back into the bowl he stole them from— missing bites and all, “I did _actually_ insult you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall waves away the comment, staring at the fruit bowl on the table. It’s not like Louis insulting him is anything new. That’s just the way Louis shows affection, Niall’s come to realize over the years.  “I’m seriously nervous here, Lou. You know how I feel about crowds. And what am I supposed to do with all these people that are going to be fallin’ all over me, trying to bag themselves a king?”

Louis sighs. He does know about the King’s aversion to crowds. It’s one of Niall’s biggest secrets that he’s claustrophobic and only Louis and a few trusted members of Niall’s council know about it. And Niall, though aware of the benefits of a political marriage, is a romantic at heart. He wants to be able to marry for love. Louis can hardly blame him. He’s a romantic too. Not that he’d ever admit it.

“You look for someone who seems genuine,” Louis wraps an arm around his friend’s shoulders, squeezing his neck in comradery. “Think about it, Niall. There’s going to be hundreds of fertile lords and ladies seeking out your hand in marriage,” Louis says, poking Niall in the side and drawing a laugh from the young king. “There’s got to be at least one in there who will actually like you. _Some_ of them are bound to have no taste.”

“Fuck off,” Niall scoffs, still laughing as he pushes Louis off of him.

“Fine,” Louis acquiesces, hands raised in surrender as he takes a step backwards toward the exit. “But you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone,” he warns, and turns to walk out of the bustling room.

Niall watches him, sighing and shaking his head. He is not going to follow Louis. He has work to do.

Niall looks around the ballroom. It’s coming along rather nicely for an event that he doesn’t even want to host. But, well, the servants look like they have everything well in hand. They don’t actually need him, do they?

Niall picks up an apple from the fruit bowl and pauses when he sees the bite Louis took out of it. Then glances around, shrugs, and bites into it anyway.

As though in answer to his previous thoughts, he sees a young girl headed his way with an intent look on her face and two swatches of fabric in her hands.

“Coming!” Niall yells toward the door Louis disappeared out of as though someone’s called for his help and hightails it out of there before the servant girl can reach him.

 

**G**

 

Gemma startles awake when the carriage jolts to a stop, her head slipping from Harry’s shoulder at the sudden halt.

Harry presses gently on her shoulder to make sure she’s not actually going to tumble out of the seat.

“Are we there?” Gemma asks to cover her mild embarrassment. Harry must have moved to sit with her again while she slept, cushioning her head on his shoulder.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, bending forward to look out the window. “I told Liam to stop at the village inn nearest the castle. I know you’d hate walking into that ball with creases on your face from my tunic and wrinkles in your dress. This will give you the time to freshen up and change if you want,” He smiles jokingly but at the same time, Gemma appreciates the thought. She needs to look her best if she’s going to have any chance of getting King Niall to agree to marry her.

“You’re a _prince_ ,” she jokes back, kissing his cheek before pushing him out of the carriage.

He’s still laughing as she follows, her lady-in waiting joining her from the other carriage while Harry secures them rooms and has the servants take care of their trunks.

 

**N**

 

Niall has had a smile plastered to his face for the better part of an hour when the arrival of two new guests draws the attention of most of the room.

“His Royal Highness, Prince Harry of Mercia and his sister, Her Royal Highness, Princess Gemma of Mercia.”

After being announced, the Prince and Princess of Mercia make their way into the room, heads held high as they both move with a grace that none of the other royals or nobles already in attendance could ever hope to achieve.

Beside him, Niall hears Louis’ breath catch in his throat.


	2. Chapter 2

**G**

 

Gemma feels eyes on her from the moment she steps into the room, arm draped over Harry’s. She’s nervous but determined not to show it. Harry helps, keeping a steady hand over her shaking one on his arm and refusing anyone who asks him to dance before she’s gotten an invitation. Technically Harry should be the one asking people to dance, but another royal is well within their right to extend an invitation. And that’s what has Gemma’s stomach knotting. Because no one is even considering her to be a suitable… dance partner. She’s paranoid her age is showing, but does her best to push those thoughts away. She won’t ruin the night before it’s even really begun.

“You can dance, you know,” Gemma whispers when they’re left alone again. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

It’s a lie and they both know it but Harry’s too sweet to comment on it.

“It’s improper, bypassing a beautiful woman to ask her escort to dance,” Harry answers instead. “I refuse to dance with anyone who doesn’t acknowledge that.”

“ _Harry_ ,” Gemma scolds exasperatedly, smacking his arm slightly. Coming from anyone else, Gemma would consider the statement a compliment. But, alas, this is her brother. Beautiful, protective, kind, young Harry, who she can already tell has more than a few hearts held captive by the looks he’s getting. There are several other princes and princesses from all over attending the ball. Perhaps his own match is here tonight, just waiting to be discovered. Gemma refuses to get in the way if fate happens to smile on him. “You know, I think I’ll just be over there,” Gemma says pointing out an area just next to where the King is dancing before pulling her arm from Harry’s. “Have fun, little brother,” she says with a teasing grin as she leaves him on his own.

“Gem-,” Harry begins to call to her back before she hears a resigned sigh. Her grin grows. He knows better than to follow.

 

**L**

 

Louis watches as the Princess of Mercia leaves her brother’s side and approaches where Niall is dancing with the daughter of a Duke he can’t stand. The daughter is pretty repugnant as well, in Louis’ opinion, but Niall is allowed to make his own mistakes. And it’s not like Niall has any interest in the Duke’s daughter anyway. He hasn’t really had interest in _anyone_ since Princess Gemma waltzed into the ball. He’d practically begged Louis to saunter over and flirt with the Prince so that Niall could approach her unhindered, but Louis had refused. He’d seen the way the Prince was brushing off anyone who approached him before his sister. Not that Louis would approach him anyway. A prince would never choose to be with someone so far below their station. Louis learned that the hard way when he was seventeen and the Prince of Persia’s family had been staying at the castle. He’d happily snuck around with Louis, stealing kisses from him and making promises he never intended to keep. Louis isn’t keen to get his heart broken like that again. And the stupidly pretty Prince of Mercia is more dangerous than most in that regard.

Louis turns his charming smile on the next man that asks him to dance, some Lord or other. Louis’ already forgotten his name. He’s old enough to be Louis’ father and Louis keeps having to remove the man’s hands from his arse, but he’s still less dangerous than Prince Harry, so Louis will take the distraction.

 

**N**

 

Niall is desperately trying to keep his attention on his dance partner, but Princess Gemma is _right there_ , just out of his reach but not out of his line of sight. She’s easily the most beautiful woman in the room and she’s alone now, approachable. Niall doesn’t really understand why no one is taking this opportunity – though he’s possibly a little pleased that he doesn’t seem to have any competition – until he tunes back into what the young lady in his arms is saying to him.

“… she’s practically _ancient_ ,” she says with a giggle, glancing to the side at Princess Gemma. “I don’t know what she thinks she can offer a king. Surely, she’s too old to give you children.”

So, it turns out, Louis was right. This girl is absolutely repulsive.

“Well,” Niall says, trying to think of a way to be diplomatic and failing. Perhaps he should just do what Louis would do and say exactly what he thinks. No, he definitely shouldn’t do that. But apparently, his brain isn’t connected to his mouth just now, so he does it anyway. “Surely, it’s better to be married to a woman who can’t give me a child, than a girl who still is one.”

And with that he pardons himself from the dance – leaving his partner, and several spectators, openmouthed in his wake – and approaches the woman he’d rather be spending his time with. He just hopes she proves worthy of the scandal.

 

**H**

 

Harry laughs politely at the story Lady Adeline has just told him, ignoring the way she bats her eyes and keeps glancing at the dancefloor like she wishes someone would ask her to dance. Namely _him_.

He’s not unaware of the effect he seems to have on others but he doesn’t want to do her the discourtesy of leading her on when his interests lie elsewhere. Like the man dancing with Lord Bishop. He’s rather beautiful, even when he’s quite obviously faking a smile as Bishop’s hands wander down to his bum again. Harry’s smile tightens as he fights the urge to go over there and remove them himself. Lady Adeline had seen him staring and warned him of the Lord’s _“wandering hands”_ though at the time, he’d thought she was just trying to warn Harry away from anyone but herself.

Harry finds himself relaxing a little when the current dance ends, relieved that the unidentified man may now excuse himself from the company of Lord Bishop. Unfortunately, Bishop seems disinclined to leave the man’s side, grabbing his arm when he tries to leave and Harry finds he can hold himself silent no longer.

He excuses himself from the current conversation and moves to the man’s aid.

“Pardon me,” Harry says, looking only at the beautiful stranger who eyes him warily. Not exactly the reaction Harry was expecting, but his eyes are a gorgeous, endless blue and Harry forges ahead asking “May I have this dance?”

Had it been anyone but royalty asking, Harry is certain that the Lord would have put up a fuss, but when the man answers with an unsure “you may”, the Lord reluctantly lets go of his arm, mouth pursed in displeasure, and allows him to go.

“What’s your name?” Harry asks as he draws the man to the dancefloor by the hands. His hands are so small and delicate, Harry immensely enjoys the feel of them in his own.

“Louis, your Highness” the man answers quietly, eyes to the floor.

“Just Louis?” Harry asks, as they move slowly to the music, taking the appropriate steps at the appropriate times to keep up with everyone else. “Or is there a title I should address you by?”

“Just Louis,” Louis answers and Harry’s heart aches a little because those pretty blue eyes still haven’t returned to him.

“Are you okay, Louis?” Harry asks earnestly. “I saw the way Lord Bishop put his hands on you. He shouldn’t have done that. Are you–”

“I’m fine,” Louis interrupts, only seeming abashed a moment later when he adds, “Thank you, your Highness, but I’m okay.”

“Well, I’m glad then,” Harry doesn’t want to let the subject drop but Louis apparently does so Harry decides to let it go for now. “How are you enjoying the ball?” Harry asks, lacking a better change in subject. He’s almost entirely certain that Louis rolls his eyes at the question when he doesn’t think Harry can see him. Harry’s pretty sure he shouldn’t find that quite so intriguing.


	3. Chapter 3

**G**

“ _Breathe, Gemma_ ,” the Princess instructs herself as she wrings her hands, her back turned to the king. She can’t watch him dancing with that other girl. What if he likes her and Gemma never gets her chance? She forces herself to calm down. “As soon as he’s done with this dance, you’ll introduce yourself. You’ll be charming and funny and he won’t have any choice but to love you.”

“I know _I_ find women who talk to themselves especially charming,” a voice cuts into the encouraging speech she’s giving herself and causes her to jolt in surprise, whirling on the interloper.

Oh, god. It’s King Niall. Smiling at her. Looking utterly delighted by her response to his interruption. Why is that cute? That shouldn’t be cute. He’s startled her, she should be indignant. Or at the very least disapproving.

“Um–” she says, suddenly tongue-tied as she stares at him.

The King’s grin grows and his eyes fall to the floor as he bows his head to her. “I apologize for my rudeness, Princess Gemma of Mercia. Do you think you can find it in your heart to forgive me?”

When the King’s eyes find hers again, Gemma finds his exuberant grin contagious. She gifts him a small smile and curtsies. “I suppose I might, your Majesty, so long as you promise to keep finding me charming.”

King Niall laughs, eyes crinkled in mirth. “Well, we’re certainly off to a good start,” he assures her, offering her his hand just as the band starts a new song. “Would you care to dance?”

“I would love to,” Gemma accepts, taking his hand and letting him lead her to the dance floor.

 

**L**

 

“Thank you for the dance, your Highness,” Louis pulls away from Prince Harry as their song ends and another begins.

“Oh. No, thank _you_ , Louis.” The Prince holds his hand a little longer than necessary but doesn’t fight him on it. He looks disappointed when he lets go of Louis’ fingers and Louis feels a strange lurch in his chest that he immediately decides to ignore.

“Enjoy the ball,” Louis says as he backs away. When he turns and there, on the other side of the dance floor –watching him–, waits Lord Bishop, he finds he can’t possibly take another step in that direction. He feels warmth at his back and knows that it’s the Prince.

“We could dance again, if you’d like,” the Prince proposes, and Louis knows he’s seen Lord Bishop, too.  He tenses at the suggestion, mind warring over whether to say yes and keep his protector or say no and walk in an entirely different direction altogether. Lord Bishop is bound to catch up with him eventually either way. Surely, the Prince won’t want to waste his whole night on Louis. Especially once he accepts that fact that Louis isn’t going to sleep with him, because that’s got to be the reason he’s playing the hero. It’s the only reason they ever do, Louis’ learned over the years. Men only want one thing from a man like Louis, a man with no title.

A hand at the small of his back has Louis stumbling forward a step to get away from it.

“I’m sorry,” Prince Harry apologizes immediately, tucking his hands behind his back. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Thank you for the offer, your Highness, but I’m afraid I have to respectfully decline,” Louis says stiffly, turning to the left and walking away. Away from the Prince, away from Bishop, away bad memories and unwanted touches. If he’s going to make it through this stupid ball, he needs a drink.

 

**N**

 

Niall can’t deny it. He is absolutely, utterly enchanted by Princess Gemma. And everything she’d predicted in her monologue to herself, that Niall had inadvertently eavesdropped on, has come true. She actually _is_ charming and funny. And Niall has very little trouble imagining that he could love this girl one day if she’s as genuine as she seems.

Niall smiles at her as Gemma regales him with a story about her brother trying to free the horses when they were much younger. He’d thought they were wild things that should remain wild.

“He was only eight. And he once told me that there was a beauty in their wildness. One he didn’t want them to lose,” she says with a laugh.

Something about the statement reminds Niall of Louis, and his eyes roam the room the until he finds him chatting with Lady Dace and Lord Madigan, drink in hand as he laughs at what was probably one of Lady Dace’s admittedly awful jokes. Louis isn’t overly fond of either of those people. Niall frowns.

“Have I said something wrong?” Princess Gemma asks breaking into Niall’s thoughts, eyes alight with concern.

“Oh. No,” Niall promises, turning his attention back to the Princess. “I was just wondering… would you like to go riding with me tomorrow?”

Gemma looks surprised at the invitation but then she smiles again – shy but genuine – and, good lord, it’s the most beautiful thing Niall’s ever seen. “I’d be delighted to,” she answers.

All thoughts of anything but the Princess of Mercia are swept away by that smile. And Niall’s heart thuds rapidly in his chest as he thinks to himself, _I found her_.

 

**H**

 

Harry felt horrible when Louis had run from him. Well, he didn’t literally _run_ , but that was what it had felt like. He’d been just as bad as Bishop, putting his hands on Louis when he hadn’t had permission. He’d only been trying to get Louis’ attention. He’d been quiet for so long that Harry had thought that maybe he was too distracted to hear his suggestion of another dance. But if Louis’ attention was what he’s wanted, he’d gone about it all wrong. And now he’s forced to simply watch the man from an acceptable distance. He won’t push his company on Louis when the man obviously doesn’t want it, but he _can_ keep an eye on him. To make sure that Bishop stays away, and anyone else who’s willing to ignore Louis’ feelings in order to get what they want from him.

Now, Harry’s starting to get worried. Louis’ had cup after cup of mulled wine and he’s getting a little… unstable in his movements.

So, Harry watches over Louis from afar, politely brushing off anyone who shows any kind of interest in him. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone else to give them his time when his attention is so entirely elsewhere. He watches, and waits, in solitude. Because if Louis ends up needing to be saved –from Bishop, from Madigan, from _himself_ –before the night is over, Harry is sure as hell going to make sure that there’s someone there who has Louis’ best interests at heart to do the saving.


	4. Chapter 4

**L**

 

Louis is pleasantly drunk. Drunk enough to withstand the company of two people he normally wouldn’t give the time of day. Drunk enough to ignore the lingering feeling of eyes on his back. He’s not sure who it is, whether it’s the prince of Mercia keeping watch over him or Lord Bishop eying his arse yet again, but right now, Louis is too pissed to care.

He’s missed the punchline of whatever story Lady Dace has been telling but Louis laughs at the horrified face Lord Madigan makes when she’s finished. It makes her puff up with pride because she obviously thinks she’s responsible for his laughter and Louis almost corrects her assumption but then Lord Madigan excuses himself and Louis’ train of thought is interrupted.

“Well,” Lady Dace deflates, and Louis realizes belatedly that she was trying to impress Madigan. Louis turns his head to watch the retreating Lord and has to admit that he doesn’t see what the fuss is about. Lord Madigan has a pinched face and bird legs that don’t go well with his rounded belly. Louis can only stand the man because he’s one of the few he knows personally that has never tried to get Louis into his bed.

Louis moves closer to Lady Dace, filling in the empty space Madigan left between them. He leans sideways, hand to the side of his mouth and stage-whispers, “You could do better.”

Lady Dace looks torn between indignance and gratitude for a grand total of ten seconds before ducking her head demurely and accepting the compliment. It might be a lie. Louis’ not absolutely positive of his certainty that she could do better, but his comment has made her feel better. And the obvious way she gains confidence from Louis’ words, the way she stands taller and smiles brighter, makes Louis feel better too. She does seem more appealing all of a sudden, prettier even, and Louis thinks maybe she really does have a shot at finding someone better than Lord Madigan.

What Lady Dace lacks in social graces, she makes up for in friendliness, Louis realizes as he spends the next hour talking to her, forgetting for a while his mission to numb himself with alcohol. And the less he drinks, the more he realizes that he’s too quick to make judgments on people. Lady Dace proves to be both kind and entertaining, and Louis would never have known that if he hadn’t taken a little time to get to know her.

This epiphany doesn’t make him change his opinion of Lord Bishop, the man is still a lecherous creep that definitely needs to learn what boundaries are. But Louis thinks that maybe, just _perhaps_ , he might have been a little too hard on the prince of Mercia.

 

**H**

Harry doesn’t even realize he’s been smiling for the past hour, gaze torn between watching his sister effortlessly win over the king and keeping an eye on Louis as he talks and laughs freely with Lady Dace.

Harry’s so proud of his sister, he knew her fears about not being good enough for the king were unfounded. The king hasn’t even looked at anyone else since they started dancing. She’s completely monopolizing his attention and the king doesn’t even seem to notice or care that he’s supposed to be mingling with his other guests as well.

And then Harry looks over at Louis. He was getting worried about him before with all the mulled wine he’d been drinking but whatever was driving him to drinking before seems to have evaporated in the last hour. He seems carefree at the moment and Harry is envious of Lady Dace for being privy to the genuine smiles Louis gives her and the way his eyes light up when he laughs. A feeling, light and abundant, expands in Harry’s chest as he watches. He wonders if he approached, if he asked Louis for another dance, would the light in his eyes fade? Would his smile thin until it disappeared entirely?

He doesn’t want to risk it, doesn’t want to know that his presence is an impediment to Louis’ good mood. But even more urgently, he doesn’t want to risk spending the night watching the man and never getting to speak to him again when this is all over. So, Harry _will_ risk it. He has to. He’s never felt before the way he feels when he looks at Louis and Harry doesn’t want to chance never feeling this way again. Besides, he thinks, straightening his tunic nervously, the possibility of love is worth any risk.

 

**G**

When the ball becomes too stifling, Niall asks Gemma if she like to take a walk through the gardens. She hesitates for a moment, knowing that ‘a walk through the gardens’ could mean many things, several of which would be very damaging to her already shaky reputation. If she thought being old was bad, what will people say about the old princess luring the King to the gardens unchaperoned? But before she can question herself or the king’s motivations too deeply, Niall is signaling to a servant to follow them out as he leads her out into the night.

Now, Gemma is glad for the chance to get away. People will still talk, but Gemma can’t find it herself to care. Not when Niall is so lovely. Not when he’s sharing with her a part of himself that no one else gets to see. He talks more freely outside, and it’s almost like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He’s more comfortable, more quick to jest and quicker still to smile.

He tells Gemma a terribly inappropriate joke and she can’t help it. She laughs behind her hand, trying to hold back some of the force behind it but failing. She’s tried giggling daintily like the other girls at the ball but when King Niall makes her laugh, it comes out full-bodied, sounding more like a horse braying than anything that could even remotely pass for delicate.

Niall’s eyes go wide at the sound of it and she thinks for half a panicked, heart-stopping moment that it’s all over. No man wants a woman who laughs like a horse. But then Niall just laughs harder, face going red, and breathlessly informs her that, “That’s my new favorite thing about you.”

“What?” She asks, needing clarification. “That I laugh at inappropriate jokes or that I sound like a barnyard animal doing it?”

Niall’s face is just starting to return to it’s normal color when he answers, “Both.”

Gemma smiles, looking at the ground shyly. She can definitely live with that.


	5. Chapter 5

**L**

Louis feels him at his back before he sees him. He tenses, because he knows what’s coming. And though he was thinking about going easier on him earlier, Louis isn’t quite ready to make good on that plan yet. He's still a little tipsy from the wine and not in the best condition to be making decisions. Fate seems determined to force this one though.

The prince clears his throat, politely announcing his presence so as not to startle Louis. Which Louis might value more if he’d actually needed it. Men like Louis, the fertile ones, learn quickly to always be aware of their surroundings. Far too many people think of the word ‘fertile’ as synonymous with ‘ _whore_ ’.

Louis turns to the prince, carefully keeping his lips turned up pleasantly at the edges. He may not want the attention but he’s not going to be rude unless the prince is rude first. “Your Highness,” he says sweetly, gesturing to his new friend. “Have you met Lady Dace?”

The prince hesitates, perhaps sensing Louis’ discomfort, before he turns to Lady Dace with a devastating smile that dimples his cheeks. “I haven’t had the pleasure,” he says, taking her hand and bringing it briefly to his lips.

“Oh my,” Lady Dace nearly swoons when she has her hand back. “It’s lovely to meet you, your Highness,” she manages with a wobbly curtsy.

“And you as well,” the prince gives her a small bow of his head. His brow furrows a moment later. “Would you mind terribly if I stole your companion for a moment?”

“Oh,” Lady Dace, though obviously slightly disappointed, takes the prince’s dismissal with a grace Louis doubts even half the other people in the ballroom would have done but not before flicking her eyes in Louis’ direction for confirmation that he’s okay with her leaving.

He smiles and gives a minute nod, appreciating her regard for his feelings more than he could possibly say. He's suddenly very grateful that he’s let himself see past her outside awkwardness to the lovely person she is underneath. He tries to keep that in mind as Lady Dace leaves them and he turns back to the prince.

“I’m sorry to disturb your conversation,” the prince tells him, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair and mussing it a bit, a clump of strands flopping over at a bizarre angle now. “And if I am to be rejected again, I promise that I’ll accept it with good grace but–”

Louis tunes out the prince's words as his eyes focus on that clumsy section of the prince’s hair and then on the nervous way he twists his hands as he speaks. There's a slight quiver to his smile, too, and Louis finds he likes the prince a little more when he appears imperfect.

“ –honour me with another dance?” He tunes back in just in time to catch the tail-end of the prince’s request.

Honour? No one has ever thought of having Louis’ time as an _honour_. He almost laughs at the mere idea. A burden, yes. A curse, absolutely. But never an honour, no matter how many times he’s tried to convince Niall it is.

“Well, how can I deny a request like that?” Louis finds himself saying, taking the prince’s offered hand. “What was your name again?”

He may have decided to be a bit nicer to the prince in an effort to give the man a chance but he’s not going to change his personality entirely.

To Louis’ absolute delight, the prince barks out a laugh. It’s a horrible, loud, honk of a laugh and Louis thinks it may be the best thing about the prince he’s seen so far. Especially the way it obviously embarrasses him, his face pinking all the way to the tips of his ears as he covers his mouth with his hand.

Clearing his throat again, he looks at Louis with mirth sprinkled like stardust in the glimmer of his eyes. “Harry,” he smiles an embarrassed smile. “My name is Harry.”

“Hmm,” Louis hums thoughtfully as he lets Harry pull him to the dance floor. “Prince Harold,” he murmurs as though to himself. “I like it. It’s very… _royal_.”

Harry bites his lip and Louis’ pretty sure it’s to keep from laughing again. “That’s not my name.”

Louis knows. But if he plans on continually seeking out Louis’ presence, then for the time being, the prince will just have to get used to it.

 

**N**

 

Niall is basically floating on a cloud. That’s what it feels like anyway. When he’d imagined the outcome of this stupid ball, he’d never thought he’d actually find someone he might _want_ to share his future with. He knew he’d come out of it with a partner because, like it or not, it was absolutely crucial that he did. But he’d thought his only option would be a match of convenience, a pairing made only for the good of his kingdom. Sure, he’d _yearned_ to marry for love but his own parents hadn’t been blessed with that option, so who was Niall to think he’d get that chance. And yet.

He can’t seem to get over how amazing the Princess of Mercia is. She’s both physically lovely and a seemingly perfect match for Niall’s own personality. He can’t seem to stop smiling as they re-enter the ball and he asks her if she’d like to dance again.

The warmth of Gemma’s gloved hand in his just seems to reinforce the warm, fuzzy feelings he’s already developing.

“Thank you, your majesty,” Gemma answers with a grin and a curtsy. “I’d love another chance to embarrass myself in front of God and everyone.”

“I’m sure if anyone is going to embarrass themselves, it won’t be you,” Niall answers her, nodding to the slack-jawed crowd of on-lookers.

Gemma peeks at them, turning back to Niall as she bites her lip and tries not to laugh so obviously at their comical faces.

Niall giggles along with her, refusing to take his eyes off of her again.

“I wonder what they’re already saying about us,” Gemma ponders aloud as she places her free hand on Niall’s shoulder.

“Honestly,” Niall says quietly, just for her. “I don’t care.”

It’s entirely worth whatever everyone is saying for the way she blushes and grins at him, eyes sparkling with the stirrings of something that looks very much like affection. He was right before. Gemma _is_ worth whatever scandals they come up with.

He can’t wait to tell Louis about this. Who knew that the ridiculous git had actually made a good point when he’d told Niall to look for someone genuine? Niall is pretty sure that Gemma is as genuine as it gets.

 

**L**

 

Louis doesn’t know what he was thinking agreeing to dance with Prince Harry again. Ok, so he was thinking that he should give the prince another chance, but now that he has, the prince can’t seem to keep his eyes off of him and Louis is starting to feel a little discomfited by it. The ones that can’t keep their eyes off of him are usually the ones that can’t keep their hands off. Fortunately, the prince has been nothing but a gentleman thus far. But that’s what’s confusing Louis so much. No one has ever been satisfied with just _looking_ at him, they always want something more. Something that they would be happy to take with no further promise of a future. But Prince Harry seems utterly content to smile down at Louis, hands politely kept where they should be for a formal dance.

“You’re staring, your Highness,” Louis informs him when he can take it no longer.

The prince immediately looks away, smile fading a bit. “Was I? How rude of me. I’m so sorry.”

Louis watches him flick his eyes around the room, like he’s afraid if he looks at Louis again, his stare will return. Every now and again, he’ll glance at Louis but wince a second later when he catches himself, and his gaze will flit away again. Louis bites his lip because watching Harry try not to look at him is rather entertaining. Nevermind that, now, _Louis'_ the one who’s staring.

The prince suddenly lets out a heavy, thankful breath and nods to someone off to their right, “Sister,” he greets.

“Brother,” Louis hears a wry voice return before he twists to see Princess Gemma next to them, in the arms of none other than the King.

“Your Majesty,” Louis snickers at Niall’s lovestruck expression, seeing him shake off whatever adoration-induced fog he was in to turn to Louis. “Fancy meeting _you_ here.”

“Fuck off, Louis” Niall automatically replies playfully but bites his lip when he hears the gasps around him. “Pardon my language. Sorry. Carry on,” he orders the people around them with regal wave of his hand. He grimaces at the princess. “Never been good at keeping my curses to myself. My deepest apologies, it was improper to say that in front of a lady, let alone someone of your standing.”

Louis bites his lip so he won’t laugh, and Princess Gemma seems to be in the same boat, covering her mouth to hide her grin as she accepts his apology. A glance at the prince shows he’s not feeling quite so delighted by the King’s social faux pas.

“He meant no disrespect,” Louis defends his friend in a whisper to the prince with what he hopes is a reassuring grin. “It’s just his instinctive reaction to me,” he finishes with a laugh.

Prince Harry’s face darkens further. “That doesn’t help to endear him to me,” the prince says quietly, and it feels like his hand on Louis’ waist holds him more firmly, almost – one might dare say – _protectively_.

Louis stares at the prince in wonder. Does he-? Does he actually feel _offended_ on Louis’ behalf? That would definitely be a first. But seriously, Louis has to straighten this out. He can’t have the Prince hating his best friend and King. Because if Niall has serious hopes of making Gemma his bride –and from the way he’s still looking at her, he does–, then it’s certainly not going to help matters to have her brother against him. There’s another reason possibly for Louis wanting Prince Harry to like Niall, niggling at the back of his mind. But he refuses to think on it. It’s stupid and entirely unlikely, so Louis will not acknowledge it.

“He’s my best mate,” Louis informs Harry, moving him away from Niall lest Niall make any more mistakes before Louis can make the situation clear to the prince.

“Then he should definitely not be speaking to you like that,” Harry argues and Louis isn’t sure whether his earnest objections to Niall’s treatment of him are annoying or endearing.

He’s afraid they may be endearing.

The thought sets his heart tripping over itself and he shivers as a tendril of fear works its way around his spine.

“Louis?” Harry looks down at him, concern etched on every corner of his face. “Are you cold?”

No. Louis is not cold. It’s so much worse than that.

Louis has a fucking crush.


	6. Chapter 6

**H**

 

“Louis?” Harry asks again when Louis doesn’t answer the first time.

Louis at least raises his eyes this time. “No,” he says looking over Harry’s shoulder, somewhere in the middle-distance, his face suddenly closed off.  “I’m not cold. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Harry double-checks, pulling Louis the slightest bit closer. He can see something has changed in Louis’ demeanor and he’s loathe to let whatever it is come between them. “I can get you a cloak or something.”

Louis’ eyes meet his, a look of mirthful surprise passing over his face and Harry feels like he’s brought them back from the brink of a dangerous ledge, even as Louis’ words remind him of how ridiculous he is. “A cloak? In a ballroom full of people?”

It does sound stupid when Louis puts it like that. Harry himself is perspiring lightly in his tunic at the moment. The prospect of being cold… doesn’t seem likely.

“Well,” Harry starts to defend himself but he’s got no excuse for his thoughtlessness beyond ‘I just want to make you happy’ and that seems like it might be an inappropriate thing to say at this juncture.

“I’m alright, Prince Curly,” Louis says as he reaches up and tugs on the end of one of Harry’s curls, his smile making Harry feel warm to the tips of his toes. “Thank you for the offer though.”

The headiness of having done something right, even if it was only by acting the unintentional fool, makes Harry grin back, easily forgiving the nickname. Or rather, perhaps, relishing it. And just like that, the King’s faux pas is long forgotten.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Harry blurts out, not wanting his chance to see Louis again after tonight pass him by. With the way the King is spending all of his time with Gemma, it’s likely they’ll be staying here a while anyway.

Louis’ grin diminishes a little and he bites his lip as he studies Harry, searching his face but for what, Harry doesn’t know.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Louis says slowly, letting Harry continue to hold him as yet another dance starts up.

“Oh,” Harry intones feeling devastation bubble up from his gut as he latches on to the first possible conclusion that his brain drudges up. “Are you already betrothed?”

“No,” Louis vehemently denies, stiffening in his arms. “It would be rather improper to spend all this time with you if I was.”

And, well, that’s certainly true.

It suddenly dawns on Harry what his question must have sounded like. What Louis must think Harry thinks of _him_. “I’m sorry, Louis. I didn’t mean to imply that you…”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Louis interrupts with a murmur and Harry’s heart aches for him.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Harry says earnestly, begging Louis with his gaze to believe him. Why does he keep screwing this up? 

“I’m sure you didn’t, your Highness.” Despite his words, Louis’ eyes fall to the floor and Harry knows he’s just saying what he thinks Harry wants to hear. Sometimes he hates being a prince, having people lie to his face because they think they have to. No one has ever just been _real_ with him. Until Louis. For a while anyway.

“I am reluctant to leave you with the impression that I might possibly think less of you than I do, Louis,” Harry tells him, fighting against the urge to stroke Louis’ cheek with his fingers, not wanting to add another unwanted touch to Louis’ night. “Please, let me make it up to you somehow.”

Louis studies his face, eyes narrowed as he searches for something. What it is, Harry has no clue but he assumes Louis is satisfied with whatever he sees when at last he shakes his head with a somewhat sad chuckle. “I’m going to end up babysitting you while Niall courts your sister anyway. I suppose we can work something out.”

“Babysitting?” Harry asks with a raised brow, but his lips can’t stop their upward turn. Louis did just say they’ll be spending more time together. He’s lucky Louis keeps giving him another chance. He only hopes his luck holds out long enough to win his heart.

Louis laughs again. “Perhaps not the word I should have used.”

“Perhaps. But if it means I get to see you again, I’ll take it.”

Harry moves to the music with an extra bounce in his step, more enthusiasm in his arms, and a permanent grin on his face. Louis does a lot of shaking his head and laughing. And Harry loves every second of it.

 

**L**

 

Damn this adorable prince. He’s going to be Louis’ undoing, he just knows it. It’s frightening. And thrilling. And Louis must be an idiot to let it go on.

Oh, well. No one’s ever accused him of being a genius.

 

**N**

 

Niall is filled with bittersweet emotions as the night draws to a close. He’s spent all night with the most amazing woman and while he’s looking forward to seeing her tomorrow, he’s also disinclined to let her out of his sight. Everything feels too much like a dream he’s terrified to wake from.

When Gemma poorly stifles a yawn, Niall realizes that it’s time to let her go for the night.

“You’re tired,” he points out.

“No,” she tries to lie, “I’m fine.” Another yawn stretches her jaw and she quickly turns her head away to cover it with a hand.

“You’re tired,” he repeats with a laugh. It’s rather cute the way she doesn’t seem to want to go either.

Gemma sighs and hesitantly admits that perhaps he’s right. “It was a long journey.”

“I’m glad that you made it,” he tells her, unabashed to show just how smitten he’s already become.

“Me too,” She answers quietly, slightly less willing to shout her feelings from the rooftops.

Niall isn’t disheartened by it. It can’t be easy for a woman to risk her heart to someone when she has no proof that his feelings are genuine. It’s shaky ground that no one wants to trip over. He’ll just have to prove himself to her.

“I would like to formally offer you and your brother a place in the castle during your stay. If you’d like to, I can have your rooms made up immediately. You wouldn’t have to travel to the inn to sleep,” Niall says, having a hard time not brushing the hair off of her neck like he wants to. In truth, it’s a problem he’s been having all night.

“That’s very kind of you, your Majesty,” Gemma answers, biting down on a smile. “But perhaps it would be best if you made the offer to my brother.”

Niall blinks dumbly. Of course he should have made the offer to the prince. It’s rather improper what he’s done and he can’t believe he was so stupid. “Right, of course. I apologize if I offended.”

Gemma laughs and Niall melts at the sound of it. Another problem he’s had the entire evening. If you would call it a problem. He wouldn’t. It’s rather delightful if he says so himself. “You didn’t.”

With that, Gemma points out her brother behind them. The lad is still dancing with Louis, acting silly and making Niall’s best mate smile like he hasn’t seen the other man do in years. It does Niall’s heart good to see it.

And so, Niall waltzes over and extends his invitation, to which the prince accepts. Niall feels just a little lighter for it. Knowing his princess will be in the castle, not too far away from him, is heartening.

When the time comes, Niall watches as Gemma and her brother are lead away to their rooms, Louis standing by his side to watch them go as well.

“This is going to be a disaster,” Louis mutters loud enough for only Niall to hear as the prince peers over his shoulder to catch one last glimpse of him before he’s disappearing out the door.

“Aye,” Niall agrees with a laugh, his eyes only for the princess. “But what a beauty it’ll be, eh?”

Louis whimpers in that back of his throat and Niall chooses to see it as an agreement.

**Author's Note:**

> Everything about this is for Michelle. One of the best friends I could ever ask for.


End file.
